


Trust

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He ran one hand up Hawke’s thigh and over the curve of his ass, gripping hard enough that his knuckles whitened and his fingertips left flushed red marks that hinted at bruises to come. Hawke rolled his hips against the sheets once – just once. Justice slipped his hand under him and jerked him up onto his knees with a growl, tearing him away from the friction.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Only I will touch you tonight,” he said, and let another wave of sparks burst across Hawke’s skin.</i>
</p><p>Justice doesn't fully understand Anders' desires, but he is fascinated, and that's a start. He rapidly develops desires of his own, and begins to struggle with how much he has changed. An excuse for smut that turned into something a little bigger. Reading the first part of the series isn't essential if this one grabs you more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Breaking the Silence has, well, an EXTREMELY simple plot - all you need to know is Anders has trouble being vocal during sex due to having to be so careful to be discrete during his time in the Circle. Hawke helps him with his problem. By spanking him a lot. The rest of the series so far just follows canon, with lots of added smut. The first chapter of this fic overlaps with Breaking the Silence (the fic, not the whole series :P), the rest is all new. 
> 
> There are a couple of very brief scenes in chapter 3 of pairings that are not tagged - Karl/Anders and Isabela/Anders, specifically. I don't want to clog the search results for those characters by tagging them on this fic, but if those pairings bother you a lot then you may want to skip that section.
> 
> As with Breaking the Silence, this fic contains depictions of consensual kink.
> 
> See also: [Graphic by actualanders](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/115126199779/it-is-complicated-inspired-by-felixbugs)
> 
> And also: [Art by mevima](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/128467756314/mevima-justice-x-hawke-with-accompanying)

“I want you _both_ to know you’re safe with me. And I want Justice to know I don’t need smiting.”

Justice floated closer to the surface of Anders’ mind, shrinking away from the thoughts currently flooding his host’s consciousness. He’d become accustomed to such things – three years of Anders’ incessant need to _think_ about what he would not permit himself with Hawke had desensitised him somewhat, and the past few weeks had forced him to learn to ignore the indignities Anders inflicted on their shared body. He was uncertain he really needed to be involved in this conversation, but Hawke was speaking to him, and when it was _Hawke_ , he would listen.

 _A good man,_ Justice thought. _Worthy of you – a friend to mages, and a just man._

Anders couldn’t hear his words – it was agony at times to be so close to his old friend but unable to explain his thoughts. He longed for the ability to reason with him – he wouldn’t mind if Anders felt the need to raise his voice and complain – in that way he was so fond of – that Justice was _driving him too hard_ and _never let him have any fun._ It would be a reasonable trade. The intent, however, made it through. An echo alongside Anders’ own subconscious, a glow of affection and warmth.

“We know,” Anders said.

And some moments later when he panicked under the first blow, Anders was there to return the favour, warmth and reassurance filtering down to him in the depths.

_We are safe. We are safe with him._

Time was unreal, sensations were dulled, and Justice let his mind wander. He was determined to give Anders some measure of privacy in this, at least. His host’s body writhed, struggled, heaved with shuddering breaths and finally something snapped within him. Justice himself shuddered as frightened memories fragmented and crumbled into glittering points of light, restraint uncoiled, dissolved into nothingness. The mind was chaos and Justice felt it all, internal walls crumbling around him as Anders’ voice came loose, tearing out of his throat like a caged beast breaking free.

Minutes later he screamed Hawke’s name, and his mind quieted at last. The chaos subsided and Justice allowed his mind to tangle with Anders’ once again. It was easier this way, no strain of tugging them apart but no struggle for control. They breathed as one, still almost gasping for air, their skin cooling rapidly under a sheen of sweat. There was a not inconsiderable quantity of pain radiating from the lower half of Anders’ body, and Justice almost let a protective rush of fury carry him forwards, then he tasted Anders’ words on his tongue and stilled.

“I love you too. And I trust you.”

 _Trust._ In this frail mortal. Could it be possible? He could still feel the marks of his hands, branding him, claiming him. The thought was unsettling. It was everything Anders feared – to be utterly at the mercy of another. And yet he had come undone, for a second able to let go of buried fear, existing only in the moment. Justice relaxed into Anders’ breathing, feeling the loosening in his muscles, the relaxed glow in his thoughts.

Their actions were unfathomable – so utterly alien he was unable and unwilling to comprehend them. But Anders hovered at the edge of sleep, unafraid of the nightmares that often plagued him. It was the first time that Justice could remember Anders had felt at peace. Hawke had done something for him that Justice could not – and that would not be forgotten.

Yes, trust. That, he could offer.


	2. Chapter 2

Anders slept. Justice did not. It was a mortal need, one he had never thought he would desire. Yet here he was, trapped between worlds. Anders’ mind slipped into the Fade and he remained, pinned like a preserved insect to the physical realm. He could move a little, but too much would wake his host. That led to arguments – vicious disagreements without words where they would tear at each other with barbed thoughts, Justice insistent that Anders slept too much, that he could not stand the torture any longer, and Anders begging for rest. Eventually Justice always pushed too hard and Anders broke down, slumping to the floor of his clinic with his head in his hands as he sobbed with frustration.

Tonight Justice doubted he could wake Anders if he tried. He stretched out his arms, enjoying the way his faint glow made the shadows of Hawke’s bedroom flicker. He was only skin-deep like this, and he could feel the luxurious brush of the expensive sheets against his skin – _Anders’ skin,_ he reminded himself. He was a guest here, and should not ask too much. Anders had put his trust in him, and he had wounded him again, and again, and again.

Anders was the healer, and in counterbalance, Justice felt he destroyed everything he touched. It was not in Justice’s nature to be anything less than what he was. All force and righteous judgement – and fury, yes, that suited him well. It was not, perhaps, what he had initially been. The truth was Justice struggled to pinpoint the changes that had come over him – over both of them – since they had joined. He had become part of Anders and Anders had become part of him. There was no _justice_ in enjoying the play of blue light over the high, arched ceiling. There was no _purpose_ in the smooth slip of silk sheets over his chest. Yet these were things he now enjoyed. _He._ That was new too. The human construct of gender had become an inseparable part of his identity, although he did not quite understand what it was or what purpose it served. Still, mortals seemed uncomfortable referring to sentient beings as “it”, deeming it disrespectful. This was simpler.

He rolled onto his side and watched Hawke sleep. He was uncovered from the waist up, his broad chest rising and falling slowly, head thrown back with one arm sprawled out above it on the pillows. This was a better target for Anders’ trust. Utterly human, with all the flaws that came along with it, but he was a part of Anders’ life in a way Justice could no longer be. When they argued Hawke would be able to look Anders in the eye and explain to him what he needed and _why._ If he caused him pain, he would be there to hold him and soothe away the sting.

_Envy._ Justice panicked, fighting down the emotion until it dissipated. He could not – he would not. He would not be what Anders feared. Corrupted. Demon.

He concentrated on the steady movement of Hawke’s chest. Slowly, as gently as he could, he slid his hand up the softness of Hawke’s relaxed stomach, up onto the middle of his chest. He could feel it – the steady beat of Hawke’s heart keeping almost perfect time with Anders’ own. He would trust this man to protect his host. Even, if the time came that it was necessary, to protect Anders from him.

_I would allow this mortal to judge my actions._

The realisation was shocking, yet he realised it was something he had known he needed almost as long as he and Anders had shared a skin. Those first two weeks he’d almost destroyed Anders’ mind, driving him onward without food or sleep for days, dismissing the discomfort of the body as nothing more than an obstacle to help Anders overcome. When Anders had finally collapsed, begging to die rather than continue, Justice had realised he knew little of how to care for a living host. And now – he was no demon, he was certain of that, but he was not himself either. Whatever he was becoming, he could not believe himself to be above judgement.

Trust. Absolute. His – Anders’ – skin prickled and he shifted slightly closer to the bulky, warm body beside him. They had bound themselves to this mortal, and would protect him with their lives, knowing he would offer the same in return without question. Foggy remnants of Anders’ love drifted through his consciousness but they were not what pulled him to flatten his chest against Hawke’s side. Trust. That was what Anders had got out of their strange, violent game, perhaps – putting himself in Hawke’s hands not just for the imagined thrill of danger, but for knowing that Hawke would never, ever harm him in any way he did not explicitly request.

It occurred to Justice that Hawke, for all his bulk, would be near powerless against Anders’ magic. Or against Justice himself. He tilted his head back to look up at the sleeping man beside him – no armour, no magical protection. He had allowed himself to rest, nude, beside a powerful and vengeful spirit. The trust, then, was mutual. Hawke had put himself in Justice’s hands, as surely as if he were the one bent over a writing desk and brought to tears with violent blows.

Justice stopped his train of thoughts abruptly. Hawke was not his to think of in such a way, not even as a metaphor. Still, the gift of trust was a pleasant one, he would hold on to that thought. It made his spine tingle and his skin flush with heat – experiencing emotions when in control of Anders’ body was a strangely intense experience, and this was…

This was not what he had intended.

Hawke stirred, rolling his thigh against Justice’s rapidly hardening cock. Justice withdrew quickly, rolling onto his other side and snatching his hand from the radiating warmth of Hawke’s body. He should have known – his skin was so sensitive, he was so unaccustomed to experiencing touch this close to the surface, and Anders’ dreaming mind was leaking memories of the evening’s activities. It had been wrong to indulge, it had been selfish – this was for _Anders,_ not for him.

“You awake, love?” purred Hawke, rolling after Justice and throwing an arm around his waist, pressing himself up against his back. “You’re glowing a little, but I’m sure I felt…”

Anders drifted out of sleep, half-way conscious as his mind eased into control and Justice took a relieved step back. The light faded, leaving the room in total darkness.

“I was dreaming,” Anders murmured.

“Mm, good dreams?” Hawke’s hand skimmed over Anders’ ribs, dipping then rising over the sharp ridge of his hip before coming to rest on his inner thigh. Anders jerked his hips and Hawke chuckled against his neck before closing his hand around his cock.

“I barely remember,” Anders gasped. “But it must have been.”

Hawke’s lips brushed his neck where it joined his shoulder, then drifted up to breathe against his ear. Justice knew he should retreat deeper into Anders’ mind but he found himself watching, joining Anders as he arched eagerly into Hawke’s touch. The sensations were muted but not absent, he couldn’t ignore the insistent, building heat, and when Hawke began to stroke Anders’ cock he wasn’t sure which of them it was that tilted back their head and groaned.

“Maker, I love the sounds you make,” Hawke said. “I – shit.” He froze, his hand slipping from Anders’ cock. “You’re glowing again.”

He was – they were. It was faint, the dimmest flicker beneath the skin. In daylight it might even have gone unnoticed. Justice felt a wave of frustration, disappointment and misery from his host and flinched back, letting darkness fall again. He had claimed enough of Anders’ life, he would not destroy this for the sake of his curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” Anders said. “I – I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what he wants from me, now of all the times to…”

“Ssh, love.” Hawke squeezed his thigh and pulled him more firmly against his chest. His own cock twitched against Anders’ back. “I’m here, I’ll keep you safe. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Fuck. Maker, yes,” Anders said, finishing on a breathless whine as Hawke continued.  

The process, Justice thought, was needlessly messy – emotionally and physically. Anders writhed against Hawke, surrendering dignity as his pleasure built, racing across his body until his toes curled and his skin prickled with desperate, urgent need. It was simpler to watch at a distance, sensations as faint as light through deep water but the emotions achingly sweet as they flooded through Anders and into him. It was a relief to be removed from it – the intensity seemed almost painful, and the spike of arousal Anders felt when Hawke gripped him by the hair to hold him tightly in place still felt _wrong._ He would not have Hawke handle him in this way. But their body had needs, and Anders knew what he needed to fulfil them.

The whirlwind of sensation peaked and shattered. Anders’ mind emptied, and for a split-second Justice was in free-fall, tumbling through a vacuum as distant echoes of Anders’ pleasure sent ripples through his essence. Then Anders flooded back gasping, riding out his orgasm with unsteady thrusts against Hawke’s hand.

There was fear in the afterglow, not all of it from Justice’s mind alone. Even as Anders turned and closed his hand around Hawke’s hardness, Justice could feel a tickling ball of confusion and unease forming at the back of his mind. _I frightened him._ He had been too present – too _real._ It scared Anders, and it should – it terrified him. _Only a demon would claim so much of him._ He had intruded, taken more than was offered by Anders – or by Hawke. The thought sickened him – this was _theirs,_ even watching was an obscene violation. He could not apologise – couldn’t even begin to explain.

_It will not be repeated,_ he thought, hoping Anders might feel enough to understand. _Never again._


	3. Chapter 3

Weeks passed, and Justice kept his silent promise.

Anders fell asleep in Hawke’s arms each night, and if he wondered why he awoke each morning on the far side of the bed he refrained from mentioning it. Justice would not indulge himself in Hawke’s touch again – the effect it had begun to have on him was disturbing. Even at a safe distance his thoughts were erratic. Without Anders’ consciousness to work alongside or struggle against, his mind wandered and where it drifted was not always under his full control. This was what it was to be a mortal, he supposed – no purity of purpose, just a constant stream of conflicting desires and idle imaginings. Many of them left him uneasy, and in need of answers.

He trawled through Anders’ memories for those answers – incorporeal fingers sifting through half-forgotten moments and bringing them into sharp focus. His host’s feelings about trust, power, and sex were complex, interwoven and laced with subtleties that constantly eluded him. Memories of Karl were bitter with the echo of his death but Justice found them first, buried but not forgotten. Until Karl’s death many of these had been revisited often -  this one a favourite, Anders face-first against a dusty bookshelf in a shadowy corner. He bit his lip to keep quiet as Karl pushed into him, too rough, too fast, but there was no damn _time_ in that place,and it burned but it was what he needed – all he could think about. Pain, pleasure, an ink-stained hand pressed over his mouth when a whimper tore loose. A determined thought that he could be quiet _for him._ There was trust there of a different kind – an unspoken pact that nothing was more than skin deep, and by the time Anders knew he’d broken the rules Karl was not there to see him fall apart.

Karl had shaped Anders in his own way, but there was nothing new Justice could learn from him. He searched further, finding fragments Anders had discarded. The partners were always different, faces shifting from memory to memory. Justice paused on a woman he recognised – Isabela. Justice couldn’t see why Anders found her attractive – she rarely showed concern for anyone but herself, while Anders cared so much Justice wondered how his fragile mortal body did not crack under the strain. But Anders had hidden his compassion behind false apathy in the past – perhaps there were layers to Isabela’s mind that were beyond his understanding. Mortals were such contradictory creatures.

As the faded memory sharpened and flared into life, however, Justice lost his train of thought and submerged fully in the moment.

Isabela’s hands were bound above her head with a gauzy strip of fabric that looped around a bedpost. Justice immediately worried for her safety – such restraints would not be easy to untie, and the hands and wrists were so delicate, so easily harmed by the wrong pressure. Every bit of Anders’ knowledge as a healer told him the woman should be untied at once. However, a second glance showed there was more than enough slack for her to escape if she chose – her hands were gripping the fabric to hold it in place. Another incomprehensible game of trust. She giggled as Anders ran his fingertips down her body.

“You’re such a tease,” she huffed, throwing her head back with a sigh as his hand hovered on her hip. “All talk, I bet. Do you know how rarely I let myself get tied down?”

“Don’t provoke me,” Anders said, and Justice could taste the smirk on his lips. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s dangerous to taunt a mage?”

“Mmm, and what do you plan to do with me, apostate?”

“Anything I choose.”

The power was intoxicating. The memory gave no indication Anders felt the same way – he seemed comfortable but not entirely engaged – more interested in the way Isabela’s breasts rocked as she talked. This scenario was for Isabela’s benefit, perhaps, or an experiment Anders had not considered a success. But as Justice watched through his eyes he felt a rush of something unlike anything he had experienced before. This was not Anders’ needs infecting him – this was a desire of his own. He wondered if he should withdraw from this memory before it corrupted him. He found he was unable to tear himself away.

A surge of magic flowed from Anders’ fingers, making the air crackle and Isabela’s body arch taut as she moaned loudly, toes curling against the sheets as bright sparks danced over her dark, freckled skin.

“Fuck, again,” she panted.

Anders obliged, sending raw energy racing across her skin. Her smooth thighs parted and Anders stepped back to shed his robes before kneeling on the bed between them and sliding two fingers into tight, wet heat.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he said.

“What happened to dangerous?” she replied with a teasing grin, and Justice felt Anders’ arm tingle as he thrust another wave of power into her, dragging a scream from her throat.

She was utterly at his mercy – no, her hands could be free at any moment, she could stop this with a word – but she played her part well and Justice let the fantasy swallow him. Anders claimed her body, giving her more pleasure than she could bear until she half-sobbed and screamed through an orgasm that left her shaking. The control didn’t appeal to Anders, but her wetness coating his hand and the way she clenched around him left him breathless, and he rocked forward on his knees and slid into her eagerly, almost desperately. Justice tried to force Anders’ thoughts out of the memory – see it as Isabela had wanted it, rough, on the edge of more than she could take. He pounded into her, one hand cupping her ass as the other slid over her curves, gripping one breast hard enough to make her squeak and then gently closing around her throat. No pressure, but the suggestion of threat, the representation of control that made her press up against him and beg for more.

This was not possession – nor was it an assault. There was nothing demonic in this desire, it was pleasure traded for pleasure, trust balanced on the edge of a knife but never allowed to fall. It was utterly unrestrained yet tightly controlled, a perfect mortal contradiction of taking in order to give. Justice wasn’t sure he fully understood, but he felt the balance, the symmetry of it.

He withdrew from the memory and opened his eyes, watching his burning bright glow play over Hawke’s sleeping features. There was a throbbing ache between his legs and his skin felt over-stimulated, prickling with sharp flushes of need as every breath brought teasing friction from the tangled sheets.

He could wake him. Push those thick, strong arms above Hawke’s head with ease, pin him down and claim his mouth, all tongue and clashing teeth, bitten lips and muffled groans. In his mind, Hawke was willing – no Anders between them, no reason to hide. Just eager submission, Hawke’s legs parting for him as he pressed oiled fingers roughly into him. He could bite his neck hard enough to bruise, claw his way down his chest leaving bloodied cracks in Hawke’s skin to mirror his blue in vibrant red, then push his thighs back and finally be inside him. Slow but vicious thrusts, hard enough to bruise Hawke with his angular hipbones. Hawke’s head thrown back, his throat exposed for Justice to nip and suck at, tasting the way Hawke’s skin vibrated with each groan he forced from him.

_He is not mine._

Justice rolled onto his back, feeling Anders’ mind stir slightly at the movement. He could be caught easily – never mind actions, if these thoughts hovered when Anders awoke he might see, and he would know this was not his fantasy. He would be terrified – thoughts of his body hurting Hawke would disgust him, as they should. Justice couldn’t find the coherence to worry about Anders – he knew he should, but he felt as if he was burning, every inch of him was awake with the need to touch Hawke – claim him, _own_ him.

He peeled back the sheets and sat up as slowly as he could, the cold night air setting the hair on the back of his neck on end and sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Anders stirred again, but did not wake. He would soon, and Justice would try to find some way to atone but he couldn’t now – not while he couldn’t think, not with the scent of Hawke clogging every breath and his body weak with need. He stood, and made it as far as the hallway before dropping to his knees. The door was open and he could still hear Hawke’s even breaths, he could see the faint shape of him in the darkness and the intoxicating scent of him was in the air. Justice leaned forward with a ragged gasp, braced one hand against the wall and curled the other tightly around his cock.

_He is not mine. He is not mine._

But this was just thought, thought and providing relief to this mortal body. Surely Anders would prefer this to another night of waking with his mind foggy with half-remembered dreams, agonisingly aroused. He couldn’t ask him, he couldn’t be sure, but Anders had opened his body to Justice – he had trusted him to make decisions with it. The justification was flimsy but he seized it eagerly.

He could feel everything in perfect, agonising clarity. The night air was freezing – Anders would complain, but the sharp touch of the air after so long half-numbed in the dark was so welcome. The pressure around his cock was indescribable – pleasure pooling beneath his palm, low in his belly and racing up his spine. It was too much, unbearably hot and raw sensation racing through frayed nerves.

Justice rested his head against the wall and pressed his mouth against his forearm. Anders had been taught the restraint to be silent, but Justice had learned that what Anders could feel and process often overwhelmed him. Pain, fear, rage – they emptied his mind and left him stripped down to little more than a howling beast. He tightened his grip and began to stroke his cock, biting down on his arm to muffle the roar that threatened to tear from his throat.

In Justice’s mind Hawke could be anything he wanted – and this Hawke was begging him for more, harder, _please_. Justice shuddered and his hips jerked roughly as he matched his pace to the imagined thrusts, Hawke’s body arching under him, sweat-slick and perfect, lit in shimmering blue. He groaned against his arm and tasted a hot, metallic rush as his teeth broke the skin. Blood dripped from his chin as he threw his head back with a strangled cry.

Anders would wake in seconds, it was only Justice’s force of will that had delayed it this long and he no longer had the control to hold him back. Justice could feel their body slipping from him as sleep dissolved, but he was so _close,_ cock pulsing under his clumsy strokes, thighs twitching, his breath coming in harsh pants.  
  
“Allow me this,” he said, feeling Anders surging forward. “This once, allow me…”

Anders awoke with a shuddering groan, thrusting once more into his tight grip before he came into his palm. He dropped his forehead against the wall panting, his cock still hard and twitching against his hand.

“Justice,” he whispered.

Justice couldn’t reply, not even in thought. The body was satisfied, but he was not. He’d felt it, but it was nothing compared to what he’d almost had. What he’d almost _stolen._ He tried to remind himself they had both sacrificed for this arrangement – perhaps each of them had lost more than they had been prepared to give. But in that moment, he ached to be the one who walked in the waking world, who could say that their body was _his._  It was selfish and dangerous – a weak desire fit only for mortals.

 _He is not mine._ Not Hawke, and not Anders. He had a host. That should be enough.

“Stop with the guilt,” Anders said, hauling himself to his feet. “Please stop, I can feel it too.” He wiped the blood from his mouth and looked down at the bruised, bitten mess that was his forearm. He cringed but healed it with a thought. “No harm done,” he said, although he sounded shaken. “Could have been worse.”

Justice tried to do as Anders asked, and felt a flood of reassurance from Anders in return. Despite his worry there was amusement, too, though reduced somewhat by a strong desire to be warm, in bed, and not sticky. Justice tried to think of a way to apologise, but couldn’t convey it and just made Anders groan and shake his head.

“I said you could share my body,” he said. “Can’t blame you for trying out some of the more fun uses for it. Think we can go for a drink next time you fancy sleepwalking?” He sensed Justice’s immediate disapproval and cringed. “I suppose it was too much to hope that this would make you lighten up?”

When they were back in bed, Anders still awake with one arm thrown across Hawke’s body, Justice tried to quiet his mind. Sleep came to Anders before too long, and Justice told himself the reason he stayed in place was for Anders’ sake. Anders deserved the warmth of Hawke’s body against his, and Justice was unwilling to risk disturbing his sleep again. He had developed desires – an understandable side effect of inhabiting a mortal’s mind. He would adapt or overcome – he would learn control, as he had before in the face of overwhelming new experiences. He would not give in to weakness and temptation. He did not need this fragile human in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been wrong to consider Hawke a distraction. Although he occupied their thoughts, he did not keep Anders from his work. He would often appear in the clinic to gently remind Anders that he hadn’t been home – he needed sleep, and food, and _Maker_ how was he even still standing? Justice did not object – both of them struggled with the passage of time, neither of them ever felt quite ready to lock the door and risk leaving someone trapped outside who needed their help. But Anders was mortal, and Justice was glad of the care Hawke showed them. Besides, Anders was a stronger healer after a hot meal and a night of sleep in a real bed.

When Anders was unable to abandon his work, often Hawke stayed at his side. He was not well suited to any task Anders had tried giving him, but he was enthusiastic and a second pair of hands was often sorely needed.

Today was no different. Anders was forcing out the dregs of his magic through his fingertips, hands shaking as he worked on his patient. He was a young boy who’d taken a fall and landed on the warped remains of a broken fence. Anders had already removed the jagged piece that had been lodged in his side and carefully picked out the splinters that lined the wound, but there was so much damage to heal. Anders’ skin was frighteningly cold, and he could no longer speak to answer the boy’s mother’s frantic questions.

Finally it was done, and Anders slumped down bonelessly onto the nearest crate and watched Hawke finish handing out potions and salves to the refugees. When he’d first offered his help Justice had assumed they would train Hawke to set bones and stitch wounds. The tasks seemed incredibly simple for Anders’ nimble fingers. Hawke was more of a blunt instrument – Justice had not known there was such variety between members of the same species, and was charmed by Hawke’s clumsiness.

Finally, the clinic was empty. Hawke approached, pushing his sweat-dampened hair from his eyes and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to show his tanned forearms. Anders seemed to enjoy the view – dark hair across golden skin, roughly calloused hands tugging the crisp white fabric up to the elbows. Justice tried to quiet Anders’ distracting thoughts, and Anders shot back a barbed spike of resentment. Justice hadn’t realised they weren’t getting on well today, and settled down silently in the back of his mind.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” Anders said aloud, running his fingers through his hair and dislodging his hair tie.

“Sorry? For what?” Hawke sat down next to him and gently turned Anders away to gain access to his tense shoulders, kneading them through his coat.

“Not you,” he sighed. “Justice – he keeps interfering, and I got annoyed. It’s not his fault, I know he wants me to work harder but I _can’t._ ” He leaned back against Hawke, stilling his hands. “Half the time I don’t know if it’s him, or if I just can’t let myself be happy.”

Justice floated through Anders’ mind, glowing softly against the tense, unhappy thoughts, trying to knead them out the way Hawke’s efforts were somehow able to erase the stiffness in Anders’ back. Anders only locked up tighter, shoving Justice roughly away from any thoughts of him and Hawke.

“Does he still disapprove?” Hawke asked gently.

“I don’t know. A lot of the time I think so – he gets uncomfortable and quiet any time I think about you. He doesn’t like sleeping in the same bed – he tolerates it because I sleep better, but I know he’d rather we didn’t stay the night. _I_ didn’t stay the night.” Anders sighed. “He doesn’t have the right to decide this for me.”

“I know, love, but if we can make this easier for him…”

“No,” Anders said roughly. “He doesn’t believe in compromise, if I let him take any of this away from me he’ll take it all.”

_No,_ Justice thought hopelessly, pushing at the confines of Anders’ mind. _I want you to have this – I want…_ He wanted the boundary between him and Hawke to be bearable. He wanted time free of the incessant need. He wanted Anders to have everything he wanted and more but he couldn’t silence his own desires without dampening Anders’ in the process. He wished he could just speak – come forward and explain aloud, let Anders be the one who listened from the back of his mind and could not put words into his mouth. It didn’t work like that – it never had. In Anders’ waking hours he could only come out in full force, blazing with righteous fury as he suppressed Anders’ instinctual hold on his own mind and body. Justice could step back willingly – Anders was too afraid to let go, and so the transition was traumatic and violent.

“But sometimes…” Anders trailed off and shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. I catch glimpses of his thoughts sometimes – ones he tries to hide from me. He watches you sleep.”

“ _That’s_ not at all creepy.”

Justice gave a pleased hum, vibrating with pleasure – _not creepy_. Hawke did not resent his attention.

“He doesn’t know any better, he might just be curious,” Anders said. “And I suppose he can’t help it really - it’s not like he can sleep, there’s not a lot else for him to do.”

_Why are you apologising? What – oh._ Justice hadn’t understood, but Anders had and the awareness was there once he looked for it. Sarcasm was a difficult human concept, and a hurtful one.

“I think…” Anders swallowed nervously. “I think he might be jealous.”

“Well – that’s – uh.” Hawke fell silent, and his hands dropped from Anders’ shoulders. Anders sat up and turned to face him, and Justice found himself wishing they weren’t looking Hawke in the eye for this. Still, if Anders wished to discuss this, he would try not to make it any harder for him than it had to be. He opened his thoughts to Anders’ gaze, confessing in the form of a stream of images, his imaginings, his questions, the depths of Anders’ mind where he had explored all possible answers.

“Justice _stop_ ,” Anders cried out suddenly, raising his hands to his head. Hawke recoiled and Justice surged forward – he had to explain, he hadn’t meant to hurt Anders, hadn’t meant to scare Hawke. This was all a mistake, he could fix it, he could stop, he just needed to…

“Stay with me love,” Hawke said, gripping Anders’ arm. Justice looked down – he looked, turning Anders’ eyes to follow the sudden pressure – and saw Hawke’s hand outlined in shimmering blue light. Anders’ mind was thrashing, panicking, desperately struggling towards the surface like a drowning man caught in the undertow. But Justice was so close – and Hawke was touching him, it was really happening, even through Anders’ thick coat he could feel Hawke’s pulse in his fingertips and sense the comforting heat radiating from him. He opened his mouth to speak and felt his essence seeping from Anders’ skin, glowing rifts splintering across his face as Anders clawed at the divide between them with a wave of pain and fury.

“I mean no harm to you,” Justice said, raising his own hand to grip Hawke’s bare forearm. The hair was pleasant indeed, soft and rough at the same time, a fascinating texture against his palm. “There is no _jealousy._ I will not take Anders from you.”

“Let him out,” Hawke commanded. “Let him go, Justice.”

“My desires are within my control,” he said. Hawke’s pulse was racing under his fingers, the thick cords of muscle in his forearm were twitching as he tried to pull away. He should let go – Anders was fighting to retake control, burning energy neither of them had to spare but this was all he had. Just one chance to tell his side for once, not feel his mouth saying what Anders believed however vehemently he denied it.

“You are loved by Anders,” he said. “And you are both – important to me. I will not interfere.”

He relinquished control and let Anders force him deep as their body collapsed forward into Hawke’s waiting arms.

“I’ve got you,” Hawke whispered in his ear – but it was Anders he spoke to, not Justice, and the kind words were like shards of ice to him. “You’re safe now, love. He didn’t do anything, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

It had not been trust that Hawke felt for him, Justice realised. It was denial – naiveté. He wanted Anders, and would take him broken or whole, whatever Justice allowed. Any accommodation Hawke made for him was for Anders’ sake, not his own. Anders suspected he was a demon, and despite Hawke’s support, Justice realised he likely held the same fear. Any attempt to communicate could only make things worse. He averted his gaze and slunk deep into Anders’ subconscious, curling softly around decaying memories and fragments of nightmares. This was where he belonged. In the depths, with Anders’ demons.


	5. Chapter 5

Hawke was, Justice thought, a true warrior. The man he loved was haunted by a demon, a monster whose hand had left a fading bruise on Hawke’s arm, who now lay beside him watching him sleep. It must be terrifying to see Anders disappear and a stranger take his place. Most men would have turned them both away, but Hawke would fight for Anders. It was a comfort to Justice, even though it stung. There were contradictions to mortal feelings that he now understood perfectly – agony could be a gift, there was release in pain. Hawke despised him, and now there was no hope so he could stop wishing for a future that would never be.

“Given the lighting situation, I assume Justice is listening?”

Hawke opened one eye lazily, squinting in the unnatural light. Justice didn’t respond – Hawke had never spoken to him at night, and Justice had assumed it would unsettle him if he tried.

“I know you don’t want to wake Anders,” he said softly, sitting up and letting the sheet pool around his thighs. Justice’s eyes followed his movement despite himself, trailing down over his sculpted shoulders to the slight roundness of his belly, following the hair to where it thickened and darkened before disappearing below the sheet. He trusted the flat blue glow of his eyes to hide their movements, but Hawke’s body shook with a quiet chuckle and Justice flinched.

“I can tell where you’re looking,” Hawke said. “I’ve fought beside you often enough – you think I can’t read you as well as I can read Anders?”

“I apologise,” Justice said. He wasn’t sure how Hawke and Anders exercised such fine control over their voices, softening them until they were barely audible. His voice was imposing – deep and resonating.

“Try not to wake him up,” Hawke said gently. “You wanted to talk. I thought this might be a better way.”

“There is nothing further to discuss,” he said. “Thank you, Hawke.”

“If we’re sharing a bed, I think you can use my first name.”

“Garrett.”

“Is – Justice what you like to be called? Sounds more like a title really, a bit funny as a name ,” Hawke asked, rubbing his eyes.

“I do not see how.”

“Not amusing – strange. Never mind, Justice it is. Look, I’m not sure how much you’ve been listening to me and Anders talk, but…”

“I have not,” Justice said quickly. He felt uncomfortable looking up at Hawke, and carefully sat up to lean against the headboard.

“I sort of imagined you were always listening in,” Hawke said.

“Generally, yes. I can grant Anders some privacy. It requires effort, and I sense his emotional reactions, but your private moments are yours alone.”

“Well, after your outburst Anders had a much better idea of why you’d been being more… difficult,” Hawke said. Justice didn’t find facial expressions particularly intuitive to read, but he was sure the sideways twist of Hawke’s lips usually meant some concealed amusement, and he prickled with irritation at the thought of Hawke seeing him as a joke. “He told me you interrupted our conversation with – and these are his words, not mine, - dirty thoughts.”

“Anders’ insistence that the requirements of his mortal body are _dirty_ is not my concern. It is the weakness of his flesh that is the cause – it is…”

“Relax,” Hawke said, and he was definitely hiding a laugh now. “Look – it didn’t go well, did it? You dropped a lot on him at once, he got scared and – I love Anders. I don’t like seeing him hurt. We didn’t exactly talk under the best circumstances.”

“I do not intend to hurt him.”

“But you do hurt him.” The laughter dropped from Hawke’s voice and he tipped his head back against the headboard. “That’s the problem.”

“I do not require your affection or forgiveness,” Justice said. “I wished to explain myself – I do not expect you to reciprocate my feelings. They are my responsibility.”

“Lack of feelings isn’t the problem,” he said. “I’m with Anders. However much he says you’re one person now, there’s still two sides to you and this one…” he gestured vaguely to Justice’s glowing form. “This one is killing him.”

“I will protect him for as long as I am able.”

“Hmm, and what then?”

“He is mortal,” Justice said. “I cannot preserve this body indefinitely.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Hawke’s face creased, and Justice searched for meaning in the lines but found nothing.

“I will not allow harm to come to him unless it is necessary,” he said. “Our cause may demand much of him – I can promise no more.”

“I doubt he’d want you to,” Hawke admitted. “This is a mess – I feel like I’m betraying him even talking to you, but I feel like I’m rejecting half of him if I _don’t._ ” He laughed, and Justice failed to see the humour. Surely such a conflict should be painful? “You’re the spirit of Justice here not me – what’s the right thing for me to do?”

“I – do not know.”

“Wow – then we’re really fucked.” Hawke laughed and reached out, hesitated for a moment, then squeezed Justice’s hand.

Justice looked down at their interlaced fingers. He thought the correct response might be a squeeze in return – but he was stronger than Anders, and struggled to restrain himself. The bruise on Hawke’s arm seemed darker in the blue light, and it reminded him of what he was. He tried to pull away, but Hawke gripped him tightly.

“You’re just like him,” Hawke said. “It took him three years to admit he needed this, consequences be damned. He couldn’t just trust me to choose whether or not he was worth the risk. Don’t pull away. I’m not scared of this – well, maybe a little, but I’m not going anywhere. However this works out, as long as I’m with Anders you and I are going to be close.”

“Thank you,” Justice said cautiously. He couldn’t look away from their linked hands, such fragile mortal flesh. He could crush it to a pulp, and yet Hawke had seized him without a second thought. Perhaps there was trust there – weak, shaken, but still breathing.

“I’m going to have to talk to Anders about all of this,” Hawke said. “I can’t – I don’t promise anything, Justice. But don’t think I’m not interested. I know you mean well but I can’t let him feel I’m siding with you against him or – no, that’s not fair on you, I just – he needs to know at least one of us will always put him first. I know you can’t.”

“I would never want you to change.” Justice twitched his fingers – just the slightest pressure on Hawke’s hand. He felt the skin shift over bone and tried to flinch away but Hawke caught him and held him steady. “Anders needs – as you say – someone who can afford to put his needs before all others. I cannot give him that. I wish I could.”

“And I don’t know how he’d feel about sharing,” said Hawke gently. “This is all he has that’s just his. You understand, right?”

Justice swallowed bitter longing and nodded. It was a reasonable concern – one he had been selfish to ignore.

“You should sleep,” he said. “Anders believes your kind require eight hours to be fully healthy. I would prefer not to be responsible for your suffering.”

Hawke nodded and lay down, letting go of Justice’s hand as he did. Justice let the contact go with a pang of regret – Hawke might never touch him again, and the thought caused a physical ache in his chest that would not subside however firmly he reminded himself that there was no cause for his body to be suffering. Then Hawke extended his arm across Justice’s pillow and rolled onto his side to face him.

“Come here?” he asked hopefully.

“Anders prefers to wake up being held,” Justice admitted. “I – am distracted by physical contact. It is unwise.”

“If you’re uncomfortable…”

“It is not that. It can be endured. I – would prefer not to think of you in such ways without your consent. It was a violation of the trust you have shown me. It was unjust, and I am afraid of what that means for me. I cannot control my mind.”

“You’re only human,” Hawke said with a grin. “Or – sort of. Not really I suppose. You don’t need permission to just _think_ – but you have it, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

Justice had not thought it could be that easy. He tried to mimic Hawke’s smile, and Hawke reached up to run a fingertip along the curve of his lower lip.

“Look at that, Anders will never believe it,” he breathed.

Justice curled up in Hawke’s embrace, his back flush against Hawke’s chest. He wanted more – his mind raced with possibilities – but for the first time, Justice thought he could be content with this; Hawke’s breath against his ear, and his arms enclosing him, skin to skin with nothing and no one in between.


	6. Chapter 6

They were awake – two minds in sync in one body. Justice floated up through the depths, feeling his presence flicker against Anders’ skin. It was a question, a gentle push, and Anders answered with a shaky breath and a slow, careful step back. Trust had made this possible – it was new territory for them both, but they were beginning to find their way.

For a moment neither mind was in full control – their body shook and Anders panicked. Justice brushed against him, taking on Anders’ fears as his own and breathing through them, radiating reassuring thoughts as he gently eased forward and encouraged Anders back.

Justice opened his eyes, and he and Hawke stood together, lit by the last glowing rays of daylight. No more stolen moments in the dead of night – this was real, permitted, and happening right now. It was more than he could have hoped for.

It was different – fascinatingly so. Without panic forcing them into conflict Anders had not been forced as deep as usual – Justice could feel him watching, and could sense him settling into the in-between world Justice had become so used to.  Justice looked around Hawke’s bedroom as if seeing it for the first time.

“How do you feel?” Hawke asked. “Both of you.”

“Good,” Justice said. “Anders is calm. He is at ease with this arrangement.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to break the news to him,” Hawke said with a huff of laughter. “’At ease’ isn’t how I’d have described it.”

“No, he was extremely concerned for your safety,” Justice agreed. “I have done what I can to reassure him. He still has doubts – I have not always demonstrated restraint.”

“But he’s not…” Hawke licked his lips – Anders’ thoughts indicated it was a nervous gesture. “He’s not upset? He doesn’t mind? I thought he might be agreeing because he thought he had to.”

“We are one being – and two. It is complicated, but you are not betraying your commitment to him. He understands, as do I.”

“Thank you, Justice.” Hawke stepped forward and pushed Justice’s loose hair back from his face. “I wasn’t sure if Anders would admit it if he wasn’t ready – but I trust you.”

“Tell me again,” Justice said.

“I trust you?” Hawke raised an eyebrow.

“Again.”

“I trust you,” Hawke said, and Justice leaned in and kissed him.

Memories and the dim echo of Anders’ experiences with Hawke could not have prepared him for this. Hawke’s lips were impossibly soft and warm, yielding to his with a sharp gasp. Justice growled against Hawke’s mouth and deepened the kiss. He realised for all the shared memories he did not quite know what to do, but Hawke didn’t seem to mind his eager clumsiness. He met Justice’s tongue with his, dragging another low groan from him.

Hawke’s hands slipped under his shirt, and Justice realised his still hung limp at his sides. He wrapped them around Hawke, running his nails up through Hawke’s hair across his scalp the way that made Anders arch like a cat. Hawke nipped his lower lip in response, and although Justice didn’t quite understand why biting was affectionate, he knew he liked it. His whole body shivered with intense pleasure and he returned the action, worrying Hawke’s lip between his teeth and sucking on it hard.

“Ah – easy,” Hawke said with a chuckle pulling back to run his thumb across his lip.

“My deepest apologies.”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” he said. “Make it up to me.”

Justice opened his mouth to ask how, and his breath was stolen by Hawke slipping one hand behind his neck and dragging him down into another kiss. He thought to question how exactly this could be his atonement when he enjoyed it so much, but that would mean pulling away and _that_ wasn’t an option. Hawke’s other hand dropped to his hip – his fingers dug in and Justice rocked forward into his grip with a growl, brushing up against Hawke. He was already hard – Justice had struggled to believe this could be anything more than pity, but Hawke’s eagerness was clear as he pulled him back towards the bed.

“What do you like?” Hawke asked between light kisses along Justice’s jaw. “Is that a stupid question? Same body, same tastes.”

“No.” Justice let Hawke push him down onto his back and tug his shirt open, revealing the fragmented blue lines racing across his chest. “My desires are not his. I – there are things I have considered. But this is reality, the truth is I do not fully know.”

“Are you saying you’re a virgin?” Hawke said and yes, that sideways smile was _definitely_ amusement. Justice decided it was one of Hawke’s few flaws. He thought about sitting up and kissing it away but Hawke was pulling back to help him out of his remaining clothes and he decided to let the mockery go just this once.

“There is little that this body _hasn’t_ done,” he said. “Every memory Anders has is a part of my mind, and everything he has done since we joined, I have been a part of.”

“I’m sorry, you’re very experienced. Really, it’s intimidating.” Hawke glanced appreciatively over Justice’s body, unfastening his own shirt.

“Anders believes that was a sarcastic comment.”

“Anders is very observant.”

Hawke stood up and quickly shed his loosened clothing, looking down at Justice sprawled on the bed. Justice stared back, drinking in the sight of Hawke’s body. When had he learned to appreciate the human body in this way? He wasn’t sure, but he could not imagine not wanting this man. Hawke’s body was bulkier than Anders’, broad and muscled with a hint of softness around the belly. He was hairier than Anders too – Justice wanted to run his hands over every inch of his skin, explore every shift in texture.

“I’ve never really seen you like this,” Hawke said. He sat back down and ran one hand up Justice’s leg, following the sharp ridge of his shin up to the knee before gently squeezing his thigh. “I know you come out at night, but I didn’t really think it’d be appropriate to pull back the sheets and stare.”

“You have seen our body countless times.”

“Mmm, yes, but not _you.”_

“It is the same.”

“No.”

Hawke turned Justice’s thigh outwards and leaned forward to trace one glowing crack with his tongue. Justice hissed and grabbed Hawke’s hair, arching into the touch. Hawke made a soft noise of approval that tingled against his skin and continued following the line until he reached Justice’s hip. He nipped at the taut skin and Justice groaned.

“You have these,” Hawke said, tapping the glowing line with a finger. “And you move differently. I’ve watched you fight – both of you. Anders is beautiful too but you’re more – I don’t know. You make it look effortless.”

“It is not.”

“Just take the compliment,” said Hawke. He looked up at Justice, fingers tracing casually along the glowing markings. “Tell me what you’ve thought about,” he said. “Tell me what you want me to do. Please, Justice.”

“Anders would prefer I did not.” Hearing Hawke beg had shot straight to his cock, but for once it was Anders who was the restraining, rational influence.

“Well now I’m intrigued.” Hawke nipped at his thigh then moved, hovering his lips inches from Justice’s painfully hard cock. “He’s usually so adventurous.”

Justice shuddered, hand tightening in Hawke’s hair for a split-second before he forced himself to let his hand drop to the bed. Hawke laughed under his breath, grabbed Justice’s hips and ran his tongue up his cock from base to tip. Justice cried out – he couldn’t have found words if he’d tried, his thighs were shaking, hips jerking in Hawke’s firm grip.

“You don’t seem hard to please,” Hawke said. “But I still want to know.”

“I have seen the effect you have on Anders,” he said, gasping at the feeling of Hawke’s breath ghosting across him. “When you are in control. The way you make him feel – the contradictions of it – used and loved, broken but whole.”

“You want that?”

“No,” Justice said emphatically. “I do not believe I have it in me to submit. I want you to belong to me. I want you writhing beneath me, begging, screaming…” He broke off abruptly. “I apologise.”

“Don’t.” Hawke’s voice was heated, hoarse and eager. “Don’t apologise Justice, I want to hear everything.”

“I did not expect you to be interested.”

“Not my usual style?” Hawke grinned and knelt up. “It comes out with the right partner. That fucking _voice_ and the fact you could crush me with one hand probably helps.” Hawke’s smile slipped. “You… really could crush me with one hand. By mistake. Might be a problem.”

“Yes.” Justice sat up and hesitantly ran his fingertips over Hawke’s chest, so lightly they barely touched. Hawke bit his lip and grabbed Justice’s shoulder to encourage him closer. “I do not require this of you,” he said. “Anything you offer will be enough.”

“Fuck it,” Hawke groaned. “I know a good healer.”

“Your humour is not appreciated.”

“It never is.” Hawke’s laugh cut off sharply as Justice’s hand lightly brushed over his cock. “You’ll stop if I tell you to, and you’ll be careful?”

Justice nodded, barely daring to breathe.

“I trust you,” Hawke said.

Justice gripped Hawke’s hips and effortlessly threw him down onto his back. He covered him with his own body, grabbing Hawke’s hair and wrenching his head back to pull him into a deep kiss. Their legs tangled together, and Justice flattened himself against Hawke’s chest. His mind was foggy, thoughts scattered as everything was eclipsed by the warm, squirming body under his. He let Hawke take his full weight, forcing his tongue roughly between Hawke’s lips.

He nipped and sucked at them – and he must have got the pressure right this time because Hawke didn’t pull away but moaned softly against him and thrust helplessly against him. Justice twisted his hand harder in Hawke’s hair, tilting his head back further to expose his throat.

Justice buried his nose in Hawke’s beard and breathed in his scent before trailing his tongue down his neck and biting down where it joined his shoulder. Hawke was reduced to whimpers as Justice explored his bared throat thoroughly, licking and sucking in between rough, bruising bites. He had anticipated that touching Hawke would be intense, but he hadn’t known how much the other senses would define every moment. The taste of Hawke’s lips was replaced by the faintly salty taste of his skin – Justice followed a bead of sweat, tracing its path up Hawke’s neck to his ear and biting his lobe roughly. Anders’ concern faded as Justice demonstrated his control. He wrapped his hand around Hawke’s cock and teased it, gentle touches in contrast to an especially hard bite at Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke’s voice cracked and he thrust up into Justice’s hand.

“Is that – all you want?” Hawke gasped.

“No.” Justice released Hawke’s hair, only to close his hand around his bruised neck, holding his jaw between his fingers.

“Tell me.”

“I want to _fuck_ you.”  The word was, in hindsight, Anders’ choice. Justice considered pushing him further back – _he_ didn’t make suggestions when Anders and Hawke were together – but on balance decided he could probably use the help.

“Oh fuck, Justice.” Hawke’s cock throbbed against his palm and Justice gave another slow stroke, drawing a ragged gasp from Hawke.

“Do you consent?”

“Yes – not yet, do you know how this works? What you need to do?”

“Yes, I am aware. Anders’ memories are very clear.” He stilled his hand and, when Hawke thrust upwards, pinned Hawke’s upper thigh under his knee to hold him in place. “I will take my time. You will not be injured, but I do not wish to be gentle.”

“Then stop teasing and touch me.”

Justice slid his hand up Hawke’s side, ignoring the frustrated whine and struggling rocks of Hawke’s hips beneath him. He ran his fingers through Hawke’s chest hair, rumbling low in his chest at the sensation of coarse hair between his fingers. Hawke tried to sit up and he carefully applied more pressure to his neck, flattening him against the bed.

“You will be patient,” he said, running the pad of his thumb over Hawke’s nipple. “Your body is fascinating. I will not be rushed.”

“Please, Justice,” Hawke said – and he _knew_ what he was doing with that pleading note in his voice, Anders caught the mischief in his eyes even if the subtlety was lost on Justice.

“Your attempt at manipulation has failed,” he said. His voice gave him away – breathless and roughened, but still commanding enough to quicken Hawke’s heartbeat against his hand. “Will you consent to the use of magic to inflict pain?”

“That sounds…” Hawke licked his lips again. _Nervous?_  He felt agreement from Anders and allowed himself a moment of pride. “Try,” Hawke said finally. “Start slow – I don’t know if I…”

Justice flattened his hand in the centre of Hawke’s chest, reaching out to draw from Anders’ power. He felt it rushing down his arm – familiar from the times he’d fought at Hawke’s side, but so different here, raw strength contained by tight control. Sparks flickered from his skin and even before he released it, he could feel himself buzzing at every point of contact with Hawke’s body. Anders had perfect control – weak pulses of magic could be used to heighten pleasure, and a little more could intensify it almost beyond what was enjoyable. Justice was not sure he could have demonstrated such fine control, but this was easy – instinctive. Hawke gasped, arched his back, and Justice let electricity dance from his fingertips.

Hawke thrashed in his grip, a wordless shout clawing loose as he shuddered and writhed. He was flushed, panting, tiny beads of sweat forming on his sculpted chest as he finally slumped back and stopped struggling. He bit his lip and opened his eyes, his breath coming in tight, short gasps.

“You enjoy suffering,” Justice said, releasing Hawke’s neck to trace his full lips with his fingertips. “Why?”

“Probably the same reason you wanted to do that.” Hawke kissed Justice’s fingers lightly and smirked. “Don’t overthink it, love.”

“Continue,” Justice said, pressing his fingers firmer against Hawke’s lip.

“What? This?” Hawke kissed him again, and raised an eyebrow when Justice gasped. He let his mouth fall open and flickered his tongue against Justice’s fingers, then drew the tips into his mouth to nip at the pads.

Justice managed a few seconds of rational thought – fingertips were sensitive, they had to be, agile, nimble things for difficult, delicate tasks – then Hawke was sucking them deeper into his mouth and he wasn’t thinking at all. He stared down at Hawke, watching him smirk around his fingers as his lips, teeth and tongue performed magic of their own.

Further exploration could wait. He jerked his fingers from between Hawke’s lips, pulled back and flipped Hawke over onto his stomach with a growl. Hawke laughed, muffled by the pillows, and Justice grabbed his hair and twisted until he whimpered. He forced Hawke’s legs apart with his knees and reached out to fumble the bottle of oil out from a drawer in the bedside table. Hawke’s muscular back was heaving with heavy breaths, his head twisted just far enough to the side that Justice could see his parted lips. He was fascinated by Hawke’s mouth – the thought of how it could feel on his cock was almost enough to change his plans and turn him back over, kneel above him and fuck his throat.

 _Next time,_ he thought. He was no longer afraid to hope – Hawke wanted this, perhaps needed it as much as him. Anders was the only one who could stop this, and he didn’t seem inclined to do so. Justice tried to separate out their tangled thoughts and found it close to impossible – they were in sync in the way he had only ever known when working with the mage underground, or focused to the exclusion of all else on a critical patient. No disagreement – different tastes, certainly, but in the end they both had their hands on a very eager, very naked Hawke.

He reluctantly released Hawke’s hair to sit back between his legs. He ran one hand up Hawke’s thigh and over the curve of his ass, gripping hard enough that his knuckles whitened and his fingertips left flushed red marks that hinted at bruises to come. Hawke rolled his hips against the sheets once – just once. Justice slipped his hand under him and jerked him up onto his knees with a growl, tearing him away from the friction.

“Only I will touch you tonight,” he said, and let another wave of sparks burst across Hawke’s skin.

Only Justice’s firm grip kept Hawke from collapsing against the bed. He pressed his face into the pillow and screamed, alternating between trying to shrink away from Justice’s hand and pressing back against him. Justice let the magic subside and gently rubbed his hand over Hawke’s trembling thigh. He bent forward and pressed his lips against the small of Hawke’s back.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. Anders’ graceful fingers easily removed the stopper from the bottle, but it was Justice whose hand shook so much half of it soaked into the crumpled sheets. He coated his fingers in oil, found Hawke’s entrance and slid two fingers into him.

He knelt upright - Hawke had twisted his face to look back over his shoulder and Justice needed to see him, needed to watch Hawke bite his lip and groan as he began to thrust with his fingers. Hawke pushed back against every thrust, grinding against his hand, and Justice couldn’t help gasping at the feel of Hawke clenching around his fingers. He added a third finger and increased his pace, rough thrusts jolting Hawke forward and making him cry out and twist his hands in the sheets.

“I’m ready,” Hawke gasped.

“You are not.” Justice let another cluster of sparks play against Hawke’s thigh, lies could not go unpunished.

“Please, fuck, Justice, I am I swear.”

Pain alone was not a sufficient deterrent – Justice stilled his fingers. Hawke’s frustrated whimper became a hoarse scream as Justice pressed his free hand between his shoulder blades and directed a strong burst of electricity to dance across his shoulders. Hawke tried to press back against Justice’s fingers, begging between gasps for _more, please,_ but Justice held him steady.

“You will be injured, foolish mortal.”

“How big – how big do you think your cock is?” Hawke laughed breathlessly. “We’re not as delicate as you think.”

“You are unimaginably delicate.” He resumed his thrusts, drawing a low moan from Hawke. He couldn’t wait much longer himself – his cock ached to be inside him, and he was shaking from the effort of holding back – from resisting pinning Hawke down and taking him _now._ “You are constantly on the verge of decay, flesh held together by momentum and belief – three weeks without food, three days without water – only _minutes_ without air. You are so, so fragile.”

“Your dirty talk needs some work.”

“I will never harm you,” he said. “I will _never_ allow harm to come to you. You are _ours._ ”

“Yes,” Hawke gasped, and Justice finally gave in – he couldn’t wait any longer. He coated his cock with oil, panting as his fingers sent jolts of white-hot pleasure echoing through his flesh. Hawke shifted his knees, lowering his hips as he spread his legs wider, and Justice lined himself up and thrust into him with a deep, rumbling snarl.

“Be still,” he gasped. He gripped Hawke’s hip with one hand and his shoulder with the other, leaning forward to kiss and nip at the base of Hawke’s neck. Hawke tried to rock back against him and he bit down hard. “Still.”

“Fuck, Justice, I need…”

“I know.” He bit Hawke’s ear, making him shudder deliciously under him. “As I understand it, it is considered disappointing if this ends too soon.”

“Are you – ah, fuck – a little over excited?” Hawke gasped as Justice bit and sucked his way down his neck. “What happened to all your _experience_?”

“Your mockery will not provoke me.”

“It’s not _mockery,_ I’m just teasing.” Justice thought there was little distinction between the two, but decided now was not the time to push for an explanation. Hawke struggled and managed to gain enough leverage to slam his ass back roughly against Justice. He groaned and tightened his grip, pinning Hawke in place. “You deserve it, the way you’re drawing this out. Please, please just let me _move_ Justice.”

 Justice did not loosen his grip – he would not give Hawke even one small measure of control. But he could give him what he needed – what they both needed. He straightened up and began to thrust, slowly at first but soon unable to hold back, low moans turning to guttural growls as he pounded roughly into him. Hawke gripped the sheets, staring back at Justice over his shoulder and making every sound Justice had dared to imagine, but the pleas tumbling from his lips were infinitely more perfect and _hot_ in reality.

The light was fading and Hawke’s skin was lit in mingled shades of deep red-gold from the fire and brilliant white-blue where Justice’s skin touched his. Justice forced him down flat against the bed, keeping one hand pinning his hips still beneath his thrusts and running the other up and down the smooth skin of Hawke’s back. He dug his nails in gently against Hawke’s side and Hawke gasped.

“You can – oh _yes,_ Justice – fuck, you can claw me up if that’s what you want.”

“You will bleed,” Justice said. The thought was almost enough to push him over the edge – Hawke’s body shuddering under every thrust, so tight and hot and slick around Justice’s cock, voice rough and eyes dark.

“I don’t care, I don’t care, please.”

He dug in his nails and jerked down roughly towards Hawke’s waist. Hawke screamed, head thrown back and back arched. Justice could feel his body trying to buck and writhe beneath him but he had him utterly helpless. He dropped his hand to Hawke’s other hip and stilled for a moment to lean down and trace the thin red lines down Hawke’s back with his tongue, tasting the sweet metallic rush of blood.

“Is this – Anders believes I have pushed you too far,” he gasped. The change in his thoughts was subtle, but he could feel Anders’ concern and would not disregard it – not now, not here. He would not take more than had been offered.

“No – it’s good, you’re good. If Anders doesn’t want – don’t upset him, but don’t worry about me. Andraste’s ass, Justice, can’t you tell?”

Justice nodded, pressing his forehead against Hawke’s spine. He could feel Hawke’s heart pounding, and his skin was slick with sweat. He was so human, so perfect, and he had placed himself entirely in Justice’s hands. _Trust._ It was still the most arousing thing Hawke could offer him – and the most precious.

“I cannot last much longer,” he said.

“Let me see you?”

Justice pulled out, rolled Hawke onto his back and pulled one leg up onto his shoulder before Hawke could catch his breath. He slammed into him – no holding back this time, he gripped Hawke’s thigh tightly against his chest and slid his other hand beneath him to cup his ass and fucked him hard. It was overwhelming – Hawke’s heaving chest, his strong body helpless and shuddering under every thrust, the way Justice’s name sounded on his lips as he begged for more. He was too perfect – more than Justice had hoped for, more than he could begin to believe he deserved. Heat gathered low in his belly, white-hot pleasure rushed up his spine and danced across his skin as if he were pinned beneath his own magical sparks. He couldn’t think – he could barely breathe – all that existed was the slap of his skin against Hawke’s and more sensation than he could stand.

Every sharp, burning spot of pleasure burst at once. It was too much – right on the edge of pain, unbearably perfect and overwhelming and such desperately needed relief. He tipped forward with a cry, losing his grip on Hawke and collapsing against his chest, panting against his warm skin, breathing in his scent and letting one hand snake up to tangle gently in his hair. He realised he was gasping Hawke’s name and his voice was _shaking._ He had taken control, but this fragile mortal pinned beneath him had left him completely undone. Hawke’s arms came up around him and he pressed himself tighter against his chest.

“Good?” Hawke breathed against his ear.

“Can you not _tell_?”

Hawke laughed and kissed the top of his head.

“Catch your breath,” he said. “But please, please don’t forget to finish this after all that damned teasing earlier.”

Justice rolled off Hawke and forced himself to sit up, looking down at Hawke’s body stretched out beside him. Hawke’s cock was still hard, flushed and glistening at the tip. He’d barely touched him – just thrown him down and taken what he wanted. Justice felt a nasty heaviness in his gut.

“I was selfish,” he said.

“No, you were just first,” Hawke said. The sideways smile was back, and Justice found he didn’t mind it. “Believe me, getting to see that – I’m not complaining.”

Justice grabbed Hawke’s legs and tugged him sharply to the edge of the bed, making him gasp. He slid down onto the floor at his feet and looked up at Hawke, outlined by firelight, flushed and tousled and perfect. He took Hawke’s cock in his mouth, and Hawke’s needy moan was enough to make his softening cock stir briefly. Justice doubted he would ever tire of this – his body was satisfied but his mind raced with thoughts of things he had not yet tried. But for now he had this – Hawke’s length stretching his lips, throbbing against his tongue, and his hands sliding through his hair encouraging him to take him deeper. He did – clumsily at first, how did Anders _do_ this so effortlessly? – but quickly learning where to lick and how hard to suck to make Hawke clutch at him and groan, thighs clamping his shoulders.

“If you could see how you look right now,” Hawke said breathlessly. He tugged at Justice’s hair and he sped up, flickering his tongue against the head of Hawke’s cock and then giving Anders an internal shove back with a sharp thought of _let me learn alone._ “I never thought I’d see you like this – oh _fuck_ that’s good – I thought you couldn’t stand me, I never expected… please don’t fucking stop…”

The idea of stopping would not have crossed his mind – short of Hawke withdrawing consent, he doubted he physically could. Hawke’s voice was pure need, roughened and desperate and everything he’d wanted to hear. He buried his face in the coarse hair at the base of Hawke’s cock and Hawke thrust up to meet him, gripped his hair hard enough to hurt, and came with a hoarse shout.

Justice met Hawke’s eyes as he swallowed. Hawke gasped and released his grip on his hair to gently touch his face, running his thumb over the glowing line that followed the ridge of his cheekbone.

“Beautiful.”

He helped Justice up onto his feet, pulling him forward and down for another kiss – slow, gentle this time, but with no less passion as Hawke sucked on his lips and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. Justice pushed him back and joined him on the bed, threading an arm behind Hawke’s back to pull him closer. Hawke finally broke away and Justice ached at the loss, pulling his body tighter against Hawke’s and burying his head against his chest. The urgency was gone, but he found Hawke’s presence no less intoxicating. He could still taste him, he was surrounded by the scent of him, and Hawke’s hands had settled on him at the base of his spine and on the back of his head. He was wrapped up in Hawke, and never wanted to leave.

“I didn’t expect you to be so cuddly,” Hawke said finally. Justice stiffened awkwardly and Hawke rubbed a series of soothing circles along his spine. “It’s not a bad thing, relax. Maker, you’re more tense than Anders.  I’m the one who got thrown around like a ragdoll, I’m sure I’m the one who should need comforting…”

“I have been selfish, I will make amends.”

“Stop that.” Hawke kissed his temple and squeezed him briefly. “I’ve got a beautiful, naked, _glowing_ man draped over me like a cat – you learned that from him, by the way, I know that much. I’m fine. If you’d done something wrong I’d tell you, not joke about it – you can trust me, Justice.”

Justice nodded, inhaling Hawke’s scent and feeling his heartbeat against his cheek. Yes, trust. That, he could offer.


End file.
